Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
ENZO
The alarm to my private elevator goes off, and I check the camera. I’m not expecting my brothers back here tonight. It’s not my brothers I see on the screen though. It’s a tall blonde wearing a sinfully tight red dress.
Fuck! I totally forgot about my date with Vanessa.
Also forgot that I sent her a single-use access code yesterday before the whole Bertelli shitshow so she could let herself up here.
I could do with getting out of this penthouse and, more importantly, finding an outlet for some of this pent-up tension that seems to have turned my muscles to stone.
But there’s not a chance in hell I’m leaving Rayne unsupervised for any longer than necessary.
Thankfully, she stayed out of my way for most of the afternoon after I got back, keeping to the den or her room.
It allowed me to replay my conversation with Eliza over and over again in my head.
I did find Rayne in my kitchen around lunchtime with her head in my refrigerator, complaining about the lack of carbs in my house and asking me why I’d hidden all of the sharp objects.
Like she really needs me to explain that one.
I don’t often eat at home, and I definitely wasn’t planning on having an annoying houseguest this week.
However I also remember how grumpy she gets with no access to bread or sugar.
So for my own sanity, I had Micah’s assistant order me an extra grocery shop, complete with carbs and sugary treats—the perfect antidote to a grumpy Rayne.
The elevator doors open, and Vanessa steps out in a cloud of that cloying vanilla perfume. I make a note to have a scent that’s much more to my taste couriered to her before our next date.
She bats her eyelashes, gives me a twirl that shows off her curves. “Are we having a drink here before we leave?” she asks hopefully. That’s how we started our last date, and then I fucked her on my couch before we left, and she spent dinner with her cum soaking through her panties.
Damn, that would be a good way to spend the next half hour. “Sorry, sweetheart. Tonight’s not a good time.”
Vanessa’s face falls, and then her attention is drawn to something, or someone, to the right of me. In my peripheral vision, I see Rayne saunter into the hallway, dressed in a flimsy pair of pajamas.
Vanessa trains her icy blue eyes on her. “Who the hell is this bitch, King?”
Oh, there’s that jealous streak she usually hides so well. I take hold of her hand, squeezing gently. “That’s my annoying cousin. She’s staying here for a few days.”
Her eyes flicker back to me, still dripping with ice, much like her demeanor. “So why can’t we go out on our date?”
“Because while she’s my cousin, she’s also a lying snake and I don’t trust her here alone.”
“We could stay in?” she offers.
We could. I could fuck her senseless and make her scream my name all over this goddamn house.
Remind Rayne what she’s missing. Except that stone-cold bitch probably wouldn’t give a damn, and having her here is also a huge fucking mood killer.
I can’t think about her while I fuck another woman, not when she’s actually in my damn house.
I shake my head and wince. “I don’t think that’s gonna work. But we can take a raincheck.”
Vanessa doesn’t entirely buy it; she’s not stupid.
She’s eyeing me with unguarded suspicion, but she’s shrewd enough to know that dating a guy like me is never going to be plain sailing.
Despite how cool she tries to play it, she’s the kind of woman who thinks the payoff could ultimately be worth it.
She has her eyes on becoming Mrs. Enzo Medici, just like they all do, even if she hasn’t admitted it.
She glances at Rayne again, who’s still hovering in the damn hallway like an unwanted spectator. “Your cousin?”
“Not by blood. More like her mom and my mom were friends, you know?”
“King,” she angry whispers.
“Babe.” I grab her hip and tug her closer. “She is not my fucking type. I would rather wrestle a grizzly than go anywhere near her. I promise this is just an unexpected dent in our plans. Okay?”
Predictably, she pouts. I brush my lips over hers. “We’ll reschedule, and I’ll book us the best table at the Monroe.”
That appeases her a little—as I had known it would.
Being seen in the most exclusive restaurant in Vegas with me is high on her wish list. She melts into me, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck.
I hate it and want to shrug away, but Rayne is watching, and I won’t give her the satisfaction.
Instead, I squeeze Vanessa’s ass. “I’ll call you in a few days once I can get rid of her. Okay, sweetheart?”
She wants to fight me on it, I can tell. But she doesn’t.
“Call me soon, Enzo.”
I assure her that of course I will and then usher her back into the elevator. The doors close behind her, and I stare at them, lamenting the lack of sex in my immediate future.
“So, I’m not your type, huh?” Rayne’s voice is right behind me, meaning she is right behind me.
I close my eyes, count to five, and school my expression before I spin around and face her.
I barely looked at her when Vanessa was here because I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that I wanted to.
Vanessa clearly put considerable time into her appearance, her carefully applied makeup and styled hair, but she didn’t look even half as good as the raven-haired temptress standing in front of me dressed in pajamas with her hair in a ponytail.
And now, her half-naked body is a mere few feet away.
And thus it’s impossible not to notice that her barely-there boy shorts and tiny cami hardly cover any of her curves.
It’s a feat of epic willpower to keep my eyes on her face.
Yeah, she’s a bitch, but I’m not a fucking saint.
“Perhaps you should dress a little more appropriately while you’re here? ”
“Appropriate for what?” she scoffs. “These are my pajamas, Enzo. I was planning a night in a hotel somewhere. Had I known you were going to kidnap me, then maybe I’d have opted for a suit of fucking armor.”
“Oh, yeah. You packed for a night with Joseph Bertelli, right?” Incandescent rage burns in every sinew of my body. “Was it just for him, or for his men too?”
I see the slap coming a mile off and catch her wrist before she can connect with my face. “You’re disgusting,” she spits out.
My hand is still circled around her wrist, but I loosen my grip upon seeing the pain in her eyes.
The hurt in her expression doesn’t lessen though.
I shouldn’t be surprised about that, she always liked a little physical pain with her pleasure, but…
if I’m not hurting her, why the hell is she still looking at me like that? Like I just kicked her fucking puppy?
Don’t need to know. Don’t want to know. What I need is to get the hell away from her. “I don’t want you walking around my fucking house with your ass hanging out. It offends me.”
She jerks her hand free from my grasp, tips her chin up, and glares at me. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
She takes a step closer, her tits almost brushing against my chest. “You want to tell that to your dick?” She jerks her chin in his direction.
Yes, my dick is semi-hard, which is difficult to hide in these sweats. And it has fuck all to do with Vanessa.
“It wasn’t like that while you were talking to Vanessa.”
“So you’ve been staring at my dick this whole time?”
“Better than looking at your face.”
“You’re fucking nauseating.”
She tips her head to the side, fiery hazel eyes dancing over my face. “Again, you want to tell that to your—”
“My dick is a fucking fool. He has no idea what a lying cheat you are.” I take a half step closer, and now her juicy tits are pressed against my bare chest. I try to ignore the fact that her nipples are hard, but it’s impossible.
My treacherous dick grows even harder. Like I said, he’s a fool.
I don’t call her out on the fact her nipples could cut glass right now, don’t want her to know I’ve noticed.
No doubt she’d lie and tell me it was the AC making them hard, not fighting with me.
“It’s muscle memory, sweetheart. All he remembers is how good it felt to be buried inside your cunt. ”
Her eyes narrow to thin slits.
“I made a lot of stupid decisions thinking with my dick where you were concerned, but I don’t do that anymore.” If I did, I’d spin her around, pin her to the wall, and fuck all my rage out on her. I tap my forefinger on my temple. “I much prefer to use my head these days.”
She barks out a laugh, not like the musical one I remember. It’s bitter. Sarcastic. “You really think that?”
“I know it.”
“Oh, Enzo. You try so hard to be the kind of man your father was, but you never will be.”
“Don’t talk about my father, Rayne.”
“Now, he was a man of cold hard logic and reason. It’s what made him so ruthless. But you, my poor deluded Enzo, are nothing like him.”
“You know nothing about me.”
She arches an eyebrow—a challenge.
“I’m not the same person you knew six years ago. That kind of betrayal changes a man.”
I brought up her betrayal to hurt her, to remind her what she did, but it doesn’t slow her down. “Does it though?” she asks sweetly.
What the fuck is her angle here, and why the hell am I even listening to her? “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“You’ve always led with your heart. Always been so driven by your passions and your anger. You’re nothing like your father—but I never said that was a bad thing.”
“I am the man my father raised me to be. You don’t know me anymore. Yeah, I might have been a hothead back then, but that kid you knew is long gone. I’m just as ruthless and cruel as my father was.”
She shakes her head. “Ruthless, absolutely, but never cruel. You can argue with your true nature all you want, Enzo, but you are not like him. And because you tried so hard to be like him, you never fully trusted your own instincts. You have always made decisions with your gut, but you allowed him to get into your head and question those instincts, and then… Well, you got it spectacularly wrong.”
“The only person trying to get into my head is you. It’s only ever been you.”
“No. I was the only person who ever truly believed in you. You can pretend you’re just like him all you want, but you’re still driven by your emotions. Even yesterday…”
There are so many things wrong with what she just said, but I’m focused on the thought she didn’t finish. “What about yesterday?”
“Your father would have put a bullet in my head in that room. No matter who I was to him, no matter what the emotional cost. He would have taken the easy way. No witnesses. No strings.”
“There would have been no emotional cost to me if I’d killed you. None!”
“So why didn’t you do it?”
Because I just fucking couldn’t. Or maybe subconsciously I wanted to pick a fight with Carmine so that I could finally be free of him. Because now that I have her, he can never fucking hurt her. “So you’re saying I should have shot you, is that it?”
She shakes her head. “I’m saying that’s what he would have done, but that isn’t you.”
My hand wraps around her throat. “Don’t think for a second that I don’t have it in me to kill you, Rayne,” I snarl, teeth bared, anger clouding my senses.
My body wants her with a need that repulses me.
I hate her. I hate what she did. I hate that my hands still remember how to touch her.
I hate that even now, with fury burning through my veins, some depraved part of me is thinking about how close she is, how fast she’s breathing, how her skin heats beneath my hand.
She doesn’t flicker, doesn’t flinch, intimately familiar with this monster inside me. The one she used to be so easily able to tame. “Oh, I know you could kill me, Enzo. But you’d do it in a fit of rage or passion, not because it was the rational choice.”
How do I begin to deny the truth of that when I’m acting the way I am, my hand on her neck and seconds away from either snapping it or fucking her where she stands. I hate that she still knows me. Not the man I try to be, but the one I actually am.
I take a beat, count to five, and let her go. “Just put some fucking clothes on,” I bark.
I’m walking down the hallway when she calls after me. “I don’t have any clean, jackass!”